


Cathedral

by flibbertygigget



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Portraits, Post-Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 09:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14329488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: When the battle is over, Minerva McGonagall is left with the wreckage of the two men who went before her.





	Cathedral

When the battle is over, Minerva McGonagall is left with the wreckage of the two men who went before her.

It’s over six months before she has a chance to do more than glance at what they had left behind. Except for a few trinkets, Albus had left all he owned to Hogwarts, and even now the Head’s office seems more his than anyone else’s, the weight of his four decades of service smothering the room like a gag. The delicate instruments still whirr and puff, and Minerva can’t even bring herself to touch the lurid robes that hang in his wardrobe.

Severus had left no will at all.

At first, guiltily, she had been glad that his portrait had not joined the other former Heads. She hadn’t known, she still doesn’t know, what to say to him. Even though she had been acquainted with him for most of his short life, had even fancied herself his friend for a time, Minerva had quickly come to the conclusion that she had never known Severus Snape. Not as a student, not as a colleague, and certainly not as a man. She had insisted on viewing his memories, and they had left her with the terrible knowledge that, cold and cruel though he could be, Severus had been willing to do what the rest of them could not.

And so, when the first term ends and she is allowed a moment to breath, she braves the contents of her desk.

There is no other place in Hogwarts that Severus could really call his own. His former quarters had been abandoned when he became Headmaster; the contents of his office taken God knows where. His classrooms show no trace of the man, even the room in the dungeons where he had taught for fifteen years. She’s sure he must have a flat or a house somewhere, but she doesn’t have access to it. It’s as if 38 years have been condensed into seven desk drawers.

“I would try the middle drawer first, my dear.” Albus’s words aren’t enough to keep her fingers from trembling as she pulls at the handle, half expecting a warding charm to blast her fingers off. That would be like Severus, she thinks almost nostalgically. Instead, the drawer opens easily, revealing a stack of blank parchment, a few spare quills, a bottle of ink, and four letters. Her heart pounds in her chest as she sees the spidery handwriting that addresses them to Horace, Ponoma, Filius, and… and her. And Minerva. She fumbles, breaking the seal and bringing the letter close to her face, not bothering with her reading glasses. Without them she at least has an excuse for her eyes to water.

_Minerva,_ (the letter reads)

_If you are reading this, then I have no doubts that Potter did his duty and the Dark Lord has been destroyed once and for all. You most likely are expecting either a curse or an apology, but I cannot apologize to you, and I certainly have no desire to curse you. I did what I had to do in order to defeat the Dark Lord and ensure that our students would not have to live in a world where Darkness triumphs. There have been occasions thus far, and there will no doubt be more before I am done, where I have failed to protect them as I ought, and I can only hope that no irreversible harm comes to them before this is through._

_You are probably surprised to hear anything of this kind from the likes of me. I no doubt died a traitor and a villain, unless Potter_ (here there is a large ink splotch, as though he had hesitated on how to continue) _managed to once again defy all odds and survive. Either way, this letter is completely selfish, I assure you. I don’t know what happens after death, but whether I am consigned to Hell or nothingness I still have some desire for the truth, such as it is, to be known – at the very least by you._

_I may have killed Albus Dumbledore, but I did not betray him. The curse in his hand was spreading, and the Dark Lord’s plans were forming in such a way that he no longer needed a spy at Hogwarts. The Headmaster, knowing what the future would bring, sought to secure my future position so that I could better serve and protect both the students and, more indirectly, the Order. It was to this end that he ordered me to kill him, which I did. As we planned, the Dark Lord made me Headmaster of Hogwarts instead of one of his other favorites. I have attempted to rein in the Carrows, attempted to keep the students as safe as they can possibly be with the Dark Lord in control of the country, but I must confess that I have doubts about my effectiveness in that regard._

_I have tried my best, please believe me. That is the only claim I can make to the content of my actions. I have no doubt that I have committed many errors, but I can say with complete honesty that I never, over the course of this war, sought to perpetuate evil. I don’t ask for your forgiveness – I am not so deluded as to think I deserve_ that _– but I do hope for some understanding. If I have a soul, let God judge me for what I am. If I do not (and this, I think, is more likely), let future historians decide my fate. I’ve given myself to worse than the tender mercies of Ms. Skeeter._

_I remain,_

_Severus Snape  
January 9 th, 1998_

Her eyes aren’t just watering when she finishes the letter. Minerva takes a handkerchief from her robes, swiping at her wet cheeks violently. There isn’t anything in the letter that she hadn’t already known, not really, but he had thought there would be. Severus had left this letter, thinking that it would be his only defense, thinking that nothing he could possibly say could have swayed her opinion of him. She turns to Albus, who is looking at her, expression sorrowful, and rage suddenly erupts inside her.

“Was this what you planned to happen?” she spits at the portrait.

“Minerva…” She shakes her head, stepping towards him, fists shaking in anger.

“Don’t ‘Minerva’ me. Is this what you planned? That Severus die and leave us with – with _this_ -“

“It was necessary. No one could know his true loyalties.”

“He could have told me!” She looks down at the letter, clenched tightly in her fist, and she smooths it out on his desk guiltily. “If you – either of you – had come to me before your death, I would have listened to you. I would have been able to help him, or at least I would have been able to make it so he didn’t feel so alone.” She glares at Albus again. “What else is in there?”

“Pardon?”

“In the other drawers. What else is in there? What else did he leave for me to find?”

“Just assorted odds and ends. Some notes on his experiments, a few half-finished articles. Nothing that could be used to redeem his role in the war. He was always fastidious about leaving no sign of his loyalties behind, nothing except those letters.” Minerva opens the other drawers anyways, bringing out the reams of parchment and the spiral-bound books of Muggle notepaper until they’re piled on his desk in four stacks about a foot high each. Just a glance a page of notes shows that it’s beyond what she can parse with her rusty NEWT-level potions skills. As she stares at the piles her eyes begin to water again.

“What a _waste_ ,” she says softly. She can feel Albus’s eyes on her, full of questions. “What a damn waste.”

“Severus knew the risks, my dear,” Albus says. She shakes her head.

“What could he have done if he hadn’t been killed by that monster? If he was able to do all this – And I don’t even know where the rest of his work is-“ Minerva turns back to Albus. “Where _are_ the rest of his – his belongings, Albus?”

“He never allowed me to know the location he spent his summers. I had the impression that it was in a Muggle town somewhere in northern England, but other than that…” The portrait shrugs. “There are others that may know more than I. The Malfoys visited on occasion, if I recall correctly.”

“I’ll just have to ask them, then,” Minerva says. She looks back at the piles of notes, determination settling in her stomach like a stone. “Why doesn’t he have a portrait?” A pause. “Albus, why doesn’t he have a-“

“In contested circumstances,” a voice to her left sniffs, “the question of whether or not a Head of Hogwarts should merit inclusion is brought to vote by the Board of Governors.” She turns, pressing her lips together.

“Headmaster Black,” she says. “Why wasn’t this brought to my attention?”

“It was considered the obvious thing to do. The _proper_ thing. Never mind that the so-called Chosen One has been trumpeting the Headmaster’s secrets hither and yon, never mind that they had a hundred witnesses right here willing to vouch for him, the public demands a scapegoat, and it had best be a visible, conveniently dead one.” Minerva blinks.

“I had not expected such a… spirited defense from you, Black,” she says. The portrait looks down his nose haughtily.

“I am not a fool, Headmistress,” he says, “and it would take a fool to not realize what horrors he faced. Besides that, I had watched him for a long time. He was a Slytherin, my Slytherin Head of House, the first Slytherin Headmaster since my own tenure here. His burdens were great, but I was proud to see him face them like a Slytherin should.”

“I see,” Minerva says. Phineas Nigellas leans forward in his frame, as though he wishes to burst from the painting.

“He ought to have a portrait,” the former Headmaster says, visibly agitated. “There have only been two other times in the history of Hogwarts that a Head has been banished. One of those, Jonathan Selwyn, attempted to murder every one of the students in their beds. The other, Damascus Bones, requested that he be banished for the sake of his children, who all hated him. For a Headmaster to have done his duty – _more_ than his duty, really – and to still be disgraced in this manner… It’s a travesty. It will be a stain on the legacy of Hogwarts herself if we do not correct it.”

“I agree,” Minerva says. “Of course I agree with you.” The letter is still clutched in her hand. “He deserves a place among you, but I don’t see how – That is to say, I wouldn’t even know how to begin. The Board has made their decision, and even the Headmistress of Hogwarts cannot overturn one of their damned decrees. Not to mention that this letter, though convincing to one who knew him, may not convince a disinterested or hostile party.”

“But you don’t only have the letter, do you?” Phineas Nigellas says.

“It’s just-“

“Don’t be an imbecile. Those are his notes, his research. Not all of them, but they’re the most recent.”

“How would that help Severus?”

“Headmaster Snape was a genius, Headmistress. That is but a small part of his life’s work. If he but had more time…” Phineas Nigellas sighs. “As it is, there is more on that desk than some produce in a lifetime. Find the rest of his notes, and you will have enough for twenty. He didn’t publish or patent much when he was alive, because he was forced to play the part of a Death Eater, but now…”

“Now we don’t have to worry about keeping his cover,” Minerva says quietly. She picks up a sheet of parchment. “I’m going to need Horace’s help. I’m no Potions Mistress; it’s been years since I had to brew so much as a Pepperup.” _Another duty Severus took up_ , she thinks. “I also need the rest of it. His notes, his research, his – his everything.”

“Ask Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy,” Phineas Nigellas says. “They owe Severus their son’s life; I expect they’ll be more than happy to help clear his name.”

“We can only hope.” She sits down at the desk and begins sorting through the pages of writing. Spellwork in one pile, potions in another. A pile for modifications and a pile for half-finished articles. It will take her time to sort through it all, to find what can be published and what will have to be set aside for the time being, but that’s fine. It’s more than fine, in fact. Severus deserves to have someone giving him the time and care in death that should have been his in life.

“Minerva,” Albus says, “it won’t be easy.” She pauses in her work, spine tightening into a steel rod. “His reputation is too Dark, not to mention the sheer quantity of work that much be done to make his notes readable. I won’t have you wasting the rest of your life on-“

“Albus, I’m sixty-four years old,” Minerva says. “I may die today, or I may die fifty years from now. All I know for certain is that Severus – I’ve already had so much more time than he did. It won’t be wasting my life to make his worth it.”

“It was already worth it, my dear. He did what he set out to do.” Minerva remembers the memories and the letter. She remembers the scruffy eleven-year-old she had written off in a moment and the man she had abandoned when he had needed her most.

“It wasn’t worth it,” she said. “Severus – He deserves better than to be remembered as a villain. If I can change that, if I can make them see what he gave…” She turns back to the writings decisively, her decision made. “When I can see him again, when I can apologize to him and thank him for what he did for our sakes, then it will be worth it. I don’t care how long I have to fight for him.” There’s a knock on the door of her office.

“I fetched Professor Slughorn, Headmistress,” Phineas Nigellas says. Minerva nods.

“Let him in,” she says. “We have work to do.”


End file.
